Settling Differences
by Shiizumi
Summary: Thanks to a lesson taken to heart, Severus Snape lives through the war. Long standing assumptions die away, and maybe, just maybe, enemies become friends. One-Shot.


**Settling Differences**

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. The rights go to J.K. Rowling.**_

_Summary: Thanks to a lesson taken to heart, Severus Snape lives through the war. Long standing assumptions die away, and maybe, just maybe, enemies become friends._

…

Harry sat alone in the Room of Requirement (which was only a burnt and empty room now), mulling over recent events, but mostly thinking about why he had decided to save Snape. Of course, the irony of Snape's, well, not being dead was not lost on either men.

When Ron nearly died in sixth year from the poisoned mead he drank, Harry decided that bezoars were useful to carry around, and the bezoar that Harry had left in his robe on "battle day" was the same bezoar that slowed the spread of Nagini's poison. This delay alone saved Snape, since Snape had long since created an antidote to Nagini's poison that took short work to retrieve.

Harry allowed himself a rare half-smile as he recalled his very first potion class. _Where to find a bezoar, Professor? In my pocket._ But as quickly as the smile came, it was gone. He sighed, then swept from the ash-filled room.

When Potter had hesitantly approached him a good week after his full recovery (and a week of awkwardly ignoring each other), Snape was hardly surprised. The boy still likely hated him, but…

But Potter _had_ saved his life, so he figured he might as well hear him out. He just looked at the boy expectantly.

"…Professor…" he started, "I don't want to…intrude, if this is a bad time…" Potter was clearly uncomfortable, but he spoke with a surprising amount of politeness. Snape decided to not reply with any of the variety of scathing remarks he could make.

"Now is fine, Mr. Potter." The boy relaxed slightly.

"Well, I was thinking hard and long about not only my past actions but also yours…and I realized that," Potter was silent for a moment, then took a breath, "I realized that you did a lot to…help us – students I mean."

If Snape was impressed – which he was – he didn't show it. And he wasn't about to pretend he was completely socially unconscious, so he bit back another possible retort. "Oh?"

Of course, that didn't mean that he wasn't going to milk this situation for all it's worth. Potter gave him a short "look" before ignoring Snape's short response. "Well, you were…a double-agent in the war, and you did try to use a counter-curse on my broom in first year…"

"I also," Snape started pointedly, if not a bit bitterly, "gave the Dark Lord the prophecy."

There was a minute of silence. "Why _did_ you do that anyways?" Potter asked with an undertone of a confused 10 year old.

Snape was mystified why Potter was even still in the room, but since Snape is also the only person who knows the reasons anymore, he just gave up trying to fight. Potter would either hear the reasons from him, or be stuck with some imaginary reason. "I only heard part of the prophecy, Potter, and I was still fully loyal to the Dark Lord then, but after I discovered who the prophecy meant…"

"You didn't know me."

Snape sighed. He hated revisiting old memories, and these memories were particularly brutal. "I knew your mother."

Potter blinked, and took a moment to digest this information. "You…you liked her, didn't you?"

Snape looked owlishly at Potter for a moment, since the boy had figured that out with the smallest amount of information. He regained his composure and said "…yes."

Awkward silences seemed to be the theme of this…conversation, if it could be called that, and Snape's "yes" of course led to another tense silence. Potter shifted uncomfortably. "I _guess_ that's alright." Potter paused half a moment, as if considering something. "If you knew my mother, did you also know my father?" Upon mention of James, Snape's visage formed into a snarl, which Potter took to mean a yes. The boy looked slightly alarmed. "What did he _do_?"

Of course, the immediate assumption that the boy's father caused the problem was slightly surprising, but not overly so. Snape sighed audibly. "Frankly, him and his gang – your godfather, the wolf, and _the rat_ – were not…the nicest to me in my youth."

Potter's eyes widened in some sort of muted horror, but also hid a wince at the mention of his godfather. "No wonder…" The boy, seemingly realizing his similar appearance to said gang ringleader, coughed awkwardly, but didn't ask any other odd questions relating to Snape's relationship with either of Potter's parents. There was another pause – he should count these, really – and Har—_Potter_ instead went to less annoying memories instead.

"Why did you treat me so horribly, then?"

At that, Snape snorted. "Because clearly as a Death Eater I could afford to be oh so nice to you, Potter."

"Oh." Potter had the intelligence to at least look embarrassed.

"Although, quite honestly, I really was starting to dislike you after all those _stunts_ you pulled."

"Hey!"

Snape gave him a withering look. Potter stopped his protests, and instead decided to just stare directly right back at him. Snape ignored the boy's poor excuse of a glare. "While you are sitting here delving deep into my past, I sit here being interrogated by some troublesome brat."

Potter just crossed his arms in a manner that was somehow not completely childish and surprised Snape with an _actual_ glare instead of those paltry ones from before. "Well you're not exactly asking questions."

Snort. "As if you would actually answer them."

Potter looked really frustrated at that, and just threw his hands into the air. "You don't even know that! You always _assumed_ things from the start, like that I was going to be like my father-"

"You're denying it?" Snape's raised eyebrow and expression of absolute non-belief met Potter's death stare, and the boy just continued as if nothing happened.

"-when in first year, the least I wanted was to _hurt_ someone, let alone prank or whatever it was that my father did in his free time."

Snape cut him off. "Why not, isn't that was most kids want to do?"

Potter, having realized what he just said, abruptly shut up and looked away. Snape gave him a look and Potter got the message of "'as if you'd actually answer them'". The boy gave a long sigh, then transfigured a chair out of something in his pocket. Potter fell into it, and then spoke, as if he was 40 years older and exhausted. "What do you know of my life before Hogwarts?"

Sensing this as a loaded question, Snape wisely chose not to bring up his theory of the boy being spoiled rotten, and instead went with something he actually knew. "You were sent to live with Lil- your mother's sister, Petunia, and her husband and son, all Muggles."

Har- _Potter for God's sake_ decided that that statement wasn't what Snape thought, and just sighed. "You think I was spoiled or something right? Well, I wasn't. My _cousin_ was, and, well, he was not very nice either." Potter said with a bitter and loathing tone. "I lived in a cupboard _under the stairs_, Snape, for _10 years_. I only stopped because they were afraid that someone was watching, since the letters were addressed to my cupboard, while they never moved me back, the room I had was almost worse."

Snape felt himself on the end of another Potter glare and almost allowed himself some sympathy. "Worse how?" It was more of a statement than a question, but Potter answered anyways.

"I had a cat flap on my door, a door with five different locks. The windows were barred, even after the twins pulled them off with a flying car – long story – and the only reason none of my stuff was burned was because they were afraid of what someone like Dumbledore would do if they found out. I almost never left the room," Harry's – fine, whatever, call him that – voice was down to a pained almost-whisper now, "except to occasionally do some 'hard manual labor'. When I did, I was pushed and hit around a lot."

Snape wasn't expecting a sob story of that magnitude, and even the grouchy dungeon bat had his limits. He surged to his feet and snarled, almost grinding his teeth to dust. "I knew Petunia was bad, but to go so _far_? Has she lost her _mind_?!" Snape paced sullenly across the floor by his desk in an attempt to calm down. Potter just stared at him, expressionless. Snape sighed, and sat back down.

"I…know how that feels, Potter," Snape began, reproachfully. "My mother was pureblood, nice and kind hearted, sure, but my father…" His face became unreadable and Snape also unthinkingly sank in his chair. "My father was probably one of the worst sort of Muggle. Any money he made went into alcohol, which never ends well for anyone. My father would, after a day and night of gambling any spare change away, come home, angry at his losses and take it out on the nearest people."

Snape threw any reason out the window by this point. He figured if Harry trusted him enough to share his pitiful childhood – why he would have trusted him would remain a mystery – then Snape figured he could share his. Of course the leveling stare he gave to the boy probably made the point quite well. He continued.

"My mother was too weak-willed to do anything about it, and only with Hogwarts did life get any better, even with your wretch of a father. Lily…helped me get by, honestly, she lived nearby, and," Snape added ruefully "the same year my father died was the same year Lily died."

Potter blinked once, twice, and then stared again. There was an agitation in the air, but by this point, the tension between the two people was almost negligible.

Later, Snape would realize with some abject horror that yes, he told the son of one of his least favorite people about his past and that yes, he was okay with it. Additionally, both men would find that they no longer outright despised each other after this conversation.

Harry just stared at him over the frame of his glasses. "You mentioned…not liking me as much after my 'stunts', what did you mean?"

Of course, Snape knew that Harry knew that he was very well aware of the sort of stunts that caused said Potions Master to dislike the boy so heavily, so instead of just listing off all the outrageous things he had done over the years of being taught, Snape decided to stress that Potter never thought about what he was doing.

"I know that you are aware of what you did, Potter."

Harry was silent, knowing Snape was going to continue anyways.

"However, what most infuriated me was how you never _thought_ about a best course of actions," Snape interrupted Harry's predicted outburst with a raised hand and a glare. "For example, in your first year, when Quirrel released the troll into the school, you went off to warn your friend immediately instead of telling another teacher or even Dumbledore, something I'm sure would've taken seconds, I'm sure."

Harry just sat moodily in his chair, understanding the point. "We were worried and didn't know anything about trolls."

"That should have made it even more obvious to tell a professor, Potter!" Snape snarled, then sighed. "If you don't know anything about a creature, shouldn't that make the creature more dangerous?" Harry nodded slowly.

Harry didn't really have much to say to that, so he just shifted in his chair. He mumbled "I never really learned that, did I?"

Snape almost smiled.

"There are other things you did, although you did, admittedly, get better at of at least thinking of plans. You're…very much a Gryffindor, but you nearly died several times in the Triwizard Tournament just because you couldn't find a better way to complete the tasks." Snape stared down at the boy, who looked like he didn't need another chastisement over some of his more ridiculous ideas at that time. "Did it ever occur to you that you could just loose on purpose?"

Harry looked up, alarmed. "What?"

Snape leaned back. "Out of the first two trials, you could have just forfeited or, say, even just researched dragons in particular. All dragons have a blind spot, and are often only good at attacking one target. If you managed to even hinder its eyesight, retrieving the egg would have been simple. The second trial…well you did alright on that one, for what you could have done reasonably, I suppose.

"But in the third trial, you could have just walked in and released red sparks, or you could have prepared a second Portkey in case of trouble to lead you somewhere safe. People were already impressed by what you did, and everyone knows what happened with the Cup."

Both of them suddenly felt cold, and Harry just nodded meekly. "I…guess. I just didn't want to lose, is all."

"No one does in any of the houses, and you didn't feel like there was any particular danger. Only the Dark Lord and a few of his followers knew what was going to happen."

After that topic, teacher and student became quiet again, but neither looked at the clock or at the door. Harry debated questions in his mind, then spoke. "Did you know that the Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin?"

Now THAT was interesting. Snape's eyebrows rose and he blinked. "Really?"

Harry nodded. "Although, I don't think I'd be considered for it now," he said, with a small smile.

"Why did you go into Gryffindor, then?"

"Er…" Harry looked away. "Well, on the train, Draco didn't exactly make a good first impression."

Snape just sighed. _Of course._ "Lily was…also considered for my house. I suppose you are more like your mother than I initially thought, although you are still so much like your father." His tone shifted from melancholy to sarcastic.

Harry just rolled his eyes. "'You look just like your father but with your mother's eyes.' Yeah, well, excuse me if that's how genetics works, but the last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt more people."

"I can see that."

The war left everyone feeling, well, resigned, and while those who were left alive all felt a bit closer in mind, most of the people caught in the middle would always treat each other with a sort of distant politeness. It was easier than remembering the blood and the screams. People like Snape were a sort of odd inspiration because he had lived through two wars and right in the thick of it.

Harry told his teacher so.

Snape just looked Harry right in the eyes, and for once, Snape didn't tried to hide his grief, and neither did Harry.

"…Thank you for saving my life, Harry Potter."

"Thank you for teaching me the importance of bezoars."

They both slowly smiled.


End file.
